Dire strait
by BIBOTOT
Summary: Cut off from the rest of the army, a Tau Fire Warrior must do everything to survive, even if that means allying with the fickle-minded Eldar. Up against seemingly endless tides of Greenskin, can they trust each other long enough to survive? Eldar x Tau story, not much in Fanfiction here. Hope you enjoy, and please review.
1. Chapter 1: Encounter

**_"The Old Ones created the Eldar and the Orks to retain a balance in the universe after their passing. But as the Orks continue to expand uncontrollably whilst the Eldar Empire collapsed, that very balance is being threatened."_**

_Inquisitor Amelda Eisenhorn, Ordo Hereticus. _

Shas'ui Gialia looked through his scope and watched the green tide. The Orks were approaching from the distance, so many of them that they could be mistaken for a forest growing out of nowhere in the middle of the dessert. The intelligence had reported the incoming of twelve million Greenskins. Not for a moment had Gialia thought it was a mere exaggeration.

The stability and unity it once stood for was evaporating for the Tau Empire recently, especially after Farsight's betrayal. For so long they had looked down upon the Imperium as backward and unkempt compared to what they had achieved, a few ill designed tanks and poorly armed guardsman, until a few centuries back when the human started a reform which ended with flying colors, making the empire realise the full might that could be brought against them. The humans were a formidable foe now, much unlike before. In a bloody final push, they had captured T'ros, the mining world that used to be the cemetery of their ascendants. The Second Damocle Gulf Crusade was also a success, undoing everything the Tau had so arduously managed during the Third Sphere.

And just to complicate the situation, there came the Orks. Usually, fighting these brainless creatures was simple, a few scattered warbands. But now, under the charismatic leadership of Warboss Dakastinz, the Waaagh! had turned out to be the largest one the Tau Empire had ever encountered. With an army of over ten billions plus an armada of Kroozers and Hulks, the Orks had swept though the sector like a swarm of locusts, and laid waste upon three Sept worlds in quick succession.

They were here, on Fio'la, gateway to the very homeworld of the Tau Empire. Should it fall, the Orks would be nigh unstoppable. Seeing the scale of the invasion, Gialia doubted their chances.

The first wave on attackers came in just before noon. Leading the lines, as always, were the cannon-fodder, Gretchins. Small, spindly creatures who immediately died in droves to the guns of the Tau. None of them made it as far as two hundred meters from the firing line.

Then, came the Sluggas and Shootas. The main bulk of the each body they moved ever-closer.

Then, came the Nobz and Flash Gitz. The largest Orks with the best equipment. If it weren't for the cover he would have lost men to the guns stolen and remade by the Meks.

Then, came the trukks and looted tanks. Ramshackle vehicles, but enough firepower to rival a hammerhead.

And finally, came the Gargant. The Ork gods given form of steel and iron.

The warcry from thousands upon thousands of Ork throat could be heard from miles away, shaking the heart of anyone who did.

"WAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!"

The defensive line which stretched out more than twenty miles through the badland punished the Greenskins, each squad knowing what was at risk if they failed. Battlesuits and Hammerheads skimmed elegantly, spraying volleys of plasma that reduced the foe to nothingness as them came. Fire Warriors and Pathfinders dismounted from the Devilfish troop-carriers and rushed into position with commendable speed, laying down hails suppression fire. No sooner were the columns of vehicle disgorged than ranks of heavily armed Battlesuits marched behind them.

Kroot warriors bolstered the defense by throwing themselves against the foe in their thousands, heedless of their very life. Despite being auxiliaries, they fought with ferocity in the name of the Greater Good.

The battle was hard-fought and no quarters were being given. For the Greater Good, the Tau were pulling out everything in their arsenal. For the Greater Good, they would not falter their duty to the Empire and the people on this day. For the Greater good, they would not fall.

Gialia was charged with defense of Fort Dolen, a makeshift garrison that had been set up hastily two days ago. It was poorly constructed by Tau standards, the lack of Earth Caste labors who were needed at other areas, being little more than a building with its walls lined up with bolt-holes and supported by thick sandbags. Under his command were forty Fire Warriors of Omega Kau-ui, a division of Morning Light Coalition, two Broadside Battlesuits and additional fire from six automatic turrets. Gialia knew all his men well. They were brave souls and strong believers in the Ethereal doctrines, ready to give their life for the great cause.

"Deny them," he ordered unnecessarily. "They must not break through or all will be lost. The people of Fio'la are counting on us. Do not leave them wanting."

His warriors responded exuberantly, louder than even a roar from a Greater Knarloc. It made Gialia almost cry.

Hundreds Orks were coming, but the sloppy sand dunes slowed them down, forcing them to clamber at some points. Dozens were gunned down easily. If victory could be decided by the number of loss, then the Tau would have won at the first minute of the engagement. Resilient the Orks might be, they were not impervious to pulse rifles. But they were far from hopeless, however. Even though their accuracy was as lacking as it should be, most of the shots going wild and exploding few meters from their intended targets, a number of lucky hits made it. Soreas fell on his face as a bolt round the size of a fist punched through his chest. A Shas'la whose name Gialia didn't remember took a shot to the stomach. The round erupted violently, as Shas'ui remembered in the briefing that Orks' rounds weren't solid, but filled with whatever the Ork's thought would do the most damage, splattering viscera on everyone next to the luckless warrior, Gialia included. None of the Fire Warriors seemed hesitant or disheartened.

"No fear," Gialia cried. "Let all the fallen be revered for they have served the Greater Good ."

Ahead, the battle raged on. The Hammerheads of the Iron Slayer Kavaal were making a good account of themselves, downing a large number of Ork ramshackle vehicles and causing their formation to break into disarray. The Gargants lumbered forward, crushing any Ork not fast or smart enough to get out of the way under its immense weight, its guns pouring death into friends and foe alike. Then again, there was no such thing as "friendly-fire" in Orks' dictionary (if they had one). The salvo left two Hammerhead ablaze and a third one was ultimately run over by the thousands of tons of metal while trying to escape. Return volleys shook off pieces of crude armour from the Gargant before a flurry of guide missiles from six Sky Rays fell upon its wounds like carrion insects and the gigantic war machine was destroyed.

No sooner had the Tau brought down the first Gargant than the second appeared, followed by the third. After that, the battle become one-sided. No matter how much effort the Tau were pouring on this, they just couldn't stand against a foe outnumbering them ten-to-one. The scale was impossible.

Another Shas'la next to Gialia died. His name was Dauria. So far, their position held. The sand slopes beneath them were already littered with scorched Ork bodies, and there was no telling how this was going to end. Suddenly, Gialia registered a peculiar smell in the air. An experience fighter, he knew exactly what it mean.

"They're coming!" Gialia had just enough time to give the warning when a portal appeared out of nowhere and hanging in midair. Electricity danced along the edge before dashing towards his squad, hitting one Fire Warrior and killing him instantly. The Tau barely registered its presence before it disappeared, leaving a Weird Boy, backed up by a mob of twenty Slugga Boyz.

Guns were turned and swords were unsheathed. Although the blades were more ceremonial than practical, representing unity amongst the Tau and the fact they were driven by a common cause, they were as deadly as like any others, but barely a match for the crude knives and axes the Orks were carrying. While others would break for their life or head for a new and safer position, The Tau stood their ground valiantly, shot point-blank, downing a few of their assailants, but at least a dozen of them were lost in the bloody melee. Gialia knew it was only a matter of time before the Tau's lack of hand-to-hand combat capacity became a weakness that could be exploited by the opponents.

Another Weird Boy joined the fray but exploded the moment it materialized. All the boyz it transport were dead, so were the three Tau being caught within the blast radius. From the campaign on Medusa V, the Tau knew the existence of the Warp, an alternative universe which they, unlike all other races, normally could not interact. Such knowledge was, however, too unstable, even pernicious to be untilised properly and research into it was eventually put down. The luckless Weird Boy just gave an example why.

The Battlesuits continued firing at the charging Orks over the slopes. Both Railgun and Missile Launchers were unfit to be used in such close range. A trukk was hit by a hammerhead, making it careen right into another. Both ramshackle vehicles slowed to a halt, plumes of smoke pouring from their hulls. None of their occupants were getting out.

The Weird Boy, even though its face wore a permanent expression of anger like a choleric statue, was not happy even by Ork standard. With one swing of its staff, a wooded stick with a skull at the tip, an energy bolt flung directly at one of the Battlesuits. It blew apart, the pilot lacerated. Two Orks trying to take it down with axes also died. The automatic turrets stopped firing as power was cut.

Gialia dispatched a Greenskin with carefully placed shot to its head, splattering the content of its brain, which was as little as he had expected. The remaining Fire Warrior had gathered their wit and formed a firing line and were wasting the advancing Orks mercilessly. All the infiltrators but the Weird Boy had been taken down, but another problem was ahead. Without the suppressing fire from above, the Greenskin surged to the high ground almost unopposed.

Sections of the wall collapsed and Orks came in like blood gushing from a wound. Amongst them were the Shoota. Although their accuracy was no better than the rest of their kind, the sheer amount of firepower they had was more than enough. Several Fire Warriors went down. The armor they wore were substantial, but not invulnerable to explosive rounds. The salvo hit the Battlesuit like a tempest of metal, and the shield finally gave in. A wash of sparks, hissing black hydraulics and blood flowed from crackling wounds, and the Broadside fell to its knee, the light in its helmet dying along with its pilot.

Then, flashing azure energy hit the Weird Boy. It exploded like the other, bringing a dozen Orks and two Fire Warriors to the other side. A Devilfish came in, its turrets blazing with plasma fire, and the Orks were utterly flushed from the holes, leaving over fifty dead.

"Get on now," said the voice from a speaker. "Order is to retreat. Rendezvous position is Darumia."

"Roger that," replied Gialia. "Let's move, Shas'la. Our duty calls."

"How can we?" a Fire Warrior name Ran'ai retorted, the tone of frustration obvious in his voice. "The battle is right here. This is the moment of truth. After all of that and we're going to leave?"

Gialia sighed deeply. Addressing to all his troops, he said, "The Greater Good needs us elsewhere. Our job here is undone, but we must leave. I promise you glory where we are heading."

A tremendous explosion shook the ground. From the distant, Gialia saw a giant bell-shape cloud of smoke rising at the horizon where Montka Command base should have been. Gialia wondered if anyone survived.

"Have we lost?" asked a Shas'la name Da'lina.

"No," Gialia assured him. "As long as one of us still draws breath the enemy will pay. But lingering does not benefit the Greater Good. We have to go now."

His warriors nodded in agreement, some of them reluctant to do so. And with that, the skimmer fled the scene as soon as the last of the Fire Warriors had mounted. Only a fifteen of them survived.

That day was forever remembered by the Tau Empire as a day of tragedy, of sacrifice, and of mourning glory. The Massacre of Fio'la. More than 5000 vehicles and Battlesuits were lost, alongside almost a million infantry. Despite the fearsome tally they claimed, with no less than six millions kills, the Tau had lost the fight.

Of the twenty Kau'ui of the Morning Light Coalition, only five made it out and none. Alpha Kau'ui were all but wiped after a bloody crossfire. They outgunned the Shootas but lost the initiative as soon as the Flash Gitz arrived. All Fire Warriors and Pathfinders from Kappa and Mu Kau'ui die when their positions were obliterated by the Gargants. Some Kommandoz, by unknown means, managed to sneak up from behind and out-flanked Omicron Kau'ui who were charged with the defense of Fort Cate'lo. Even though they were defeated, the distraction and havoc they caused made the Tau unprepared when the real attack came. Omicron Kau'ui was slaughtered to a man.

Other Tau forces didn't fare better, and with over half of their forces dead or missing in action, defeat was inevitable. More than ten thousand Kroot perished in the fight. The Greater Knarloc made two Squiggoth fall before it was brought down. The Orks swarmed the beast like ants on a mantis.

The Orks' onslaught swept through everything. Malevolent. Savage. Relentless. Vile.

* * *

The Devilfish interior was damp and omnimous. The air was cool, though, which, for the very least, provided some comfort and relaxation. Fire Warriors dispatched their kits and began polishing their guns. None of them, Gialia included, had remorse about what had happened other than not being able to finish the job. To the Tau, war was science like any other: precise, empirical and a matter of cause and effect. It left no room for mundane notions of courage and honor, or sympathy and grief for the fallen.

Gialia's Devilfish didn't get far. After two hours of travel, they were in the middle of the dessert, hoping to see any sight of others who had managed to escape without success, when a rockit exploded on the vehicle's side armor. The impact jolted its occupants off their seats and threw them hard against each other.

"Brace for impact!" The warning was passed out just in time, and the Fire Warriors followed what they had been drilling on month's end in this kind of situation. They quickly grabbed hold to anything they can, preparing for the crash.

The anti-gravity vehicle slew to a halt, rocking on one side and toppled on a nose-drive onto the ground, bouncing a few times before finally stopping. The light died out along with the engine.

"Out!" Gialia ordered as his troops managed the door open. The pilots were dead and there was no point of calling them. If the crash hadn't killed them, electrocution from the broken cables would.

The Fire Warrior exited the blackened Devilfish only to find heavy salvoes meeting them. Three were gunned down before they could react. The Orks were a raiding party of approximately thirty troops, not many but well-armed compared tot the rest. They traveled on a crude trukk with a mounted twin-linked bolter on top, which accounted for one third the bullets fired. Gialia killed the gunner with deadly accuracy, but not even that would save him.

A Nob in Mega Armor came to view. It was a behemoth that loomed over all others like a small, angry mountain. Its scavenged storm-bolter on its left hand spat death into the ranks of Fire Warrior. Two fell down instantly, their armor ripped apart, and then a third. A fourth was too slow to get out of the way and vanished in a pink-red mist, lacerated by the gigantic claw.

Gialia's rifle ran dried, and he knew it was all over. Only him and another Shas'la were alive, and neither was in any position to fight back. Nevertheless, the Orks also stopped firing. They had the prey between their jaws now and they didn't want to kill it without playing first.

An Ork came up from behind and whacked the Shas'ui with a meaty fist. It let out a feral howl as Gialia fell to his knees, dazed and oozy now. The Shas'la took a savage elbow smack to the face that glanced his helmet. A kick to the torso. A punch to the chest. Clubbed by the butt of shoota. Gialia wished the man could die.

And he did, pulverized by a head-butt from the Mega Armor Nob. The other Greenskins laughed exuberantly.

"Not so tough now, aren't ya?"

"Hehehehehe. If ya can't put up a fight, what's good is ya?"

Two Orks hauled Gialia up and dragged him in front of their Nob. The Shas'ui dropped as soon as they let go.

"Let's see how diz one doz," said the Nob.

Gialia closed his eyes, waiting for the finally blow to come. He wished it would be swift and painless. A loud thuk of impact. To Gialia's surprise, he was intact. Have the Ork actually missed? he thought.

The Nob fell. The sound it made was akin to an entire building being demolished. It was dead. Gialia's heart missed a beat. What in this cosmos could have the power to kill such monstrous beast?

His question was answered when a lone silhouette in bright green emerged on the Ork's corpse but could not identify it due to his blurred vision. At first, he thought one of the boyz had decided it was high time he was put in charge, but the figure was too slim to be one of them. Gialia heard the humming sound of tooth-edged blade and saw the sight of blood being spilled. The battle was over in seconds. Not a single Orks were going to standing up, drowned in their own pools of blood.

Gialia looked up. What he saw was a tall warrior clad in leaf-green armor, although parts of it had been stained by Ork's blood. The warrior was as elegant as any Fire Caste, but in the opposite end of subtlety, sharper and angular, putting on a grace of the ancient. He was holding a chainsword in one hand a peculiar type of pistol in the other. Strange sigils were inscribed to his helmet and shoulder guard which Gialia realized they were all alien.

Gialia was an experience fighter. He knew exactly who his savior was: an Eldar.

"You seem to be injured," noted the warrior. His voice was soft and had excellent vibrant effect. "Hold on there."

Gialia tried to answer but his body suddenly went numb. The foul scent of blood from his wound was the last thing he detected before passing out. A slug round penetrated his armor just above the waist.


	2. Chapter 2: Friend and foe

_**He who stands with me shall be my brother.**_

Gabriel Angelos, Chapter Master of the Blood Raven.

_**The enemy of my enemy is always my potential ally. Of course, only less than ten percent of them ever made it that far.**_

Amelda Einsenhorn,Inquisitor – Warlock, Ordo Hereticus.

* * *

Gialia slowly opened his eyes. His head hurt badly as if someone was banging him with a stone. He saw was his son playing with some action figures on the yard. Ga'lia had always had such imagination, no doubt would follow his father's footstep and become a member of the proud Fire Caste. The last thing that occurred to Gialia was a screeching noise and his son ran away. He tried to call but it was too late. Reality struck his mind like a comet collided with a planet, the inevitability that he wished not.

The Ork invasion was still on going.

Gialia felt his chest bare and a quick touch with his hand told him the wound which he had so carelessly taken while fighting the Orks without even realizing had already been patched with soft fabric to a nicety. Around him, his former comrades laid amidst the dead Orks. Even though they had served the Greater Good valiantly, each death was like a needle to his heart.

"You are awake," said the warrior right next to him.

Gialia got up briskly and turned around to see the Eldar, said, "Who are you? Why are you here?"

"You are hurt," the Eldar began. "You should not…"

"I'm fine," Gialia insisted. "Now, answer my question."

The Eldar nodded. "I am Sazuko Hitome, Striking Scorpion of the Lavender Blossom, Craftworld Biel-tan. And you are?"

Gialia stood up and straightened himself in way only the Fire Caste do. "My name equals Ve'li Gialia. Shas'ui of Fio'la Fire Warrior of Omega Kau'ui, Morning Star Coalition, number 201832." The last part might have been redundant, especially talking to an Eldar, but Gialia wasn't keen on skipping formalities.

"What brings you here?" Gialia asked as he saw his removed battle armor with a large hole at the abnormal. No good. He would need another one, and there was many to choose from.

"We come here to extinguish the threat posed by Orks," said the Eldar, having no opinion seeing Gialia predating the suit of a Fire Warrior whose skull was a bloody mess but the rest of his body remained rather intact.

"You said _we_?" asked Gialia. The armor had originally belonged to a Shas'la name So'reth, and it fit him perfectly. There was no honor looting from dead allies, but Gialia knew he couldn't go on with a damaged armor like that, less he felt the need to check out what it was like being inside an Ork's stomach. "And what about the others?"

"Seven of us landed here, but we were ambushed. The others got away but I got lost. I got the Orks chasing their own tails, wasn't able to rendezvous with the rest of my comrades. Then, I heard shooting and came here, finding you."

Gialia couldn't help feeling happy. Biel-tan was widely known for its infamous grudge against Orks and had come to aide other races in fighting them from time to time, so their presence here was an obvious good sign. Nevertheless, Biel-tan was also in full support of the Imperium both during and after the reform, and had developed a very positive and mutual relationship with it, second only to Craddol.

Gialia knew he would have to make decision fast. All cultural differences and contempt would have to be put aside if he wanted to survive in this hostile environment.

"If that is the case," began Gialia after some consideration, "then I suggest we join forces. There is an innumerable amount of enemy out there seeking to have our heads either on spiky poles or under their misshapen boots. Traveling together will dramatically increase our chance of making through this without dying. What do you say?"

"You have a point. I see no reason I should decline such offer," Hitome replied mildly. Evidently, he was also fond of making alliance. The Eldar was known for their precarious nature and far from being magnanimous, but remained a powerful force of order nevertheless, driven by feelings and emotions rather than just raw instinct.

"We need to start moving," announced Gialia finally. "The outer defense is no more. Unchecked and unopposed, the Orks will roam this place like a malevolent beast. This whole valley is teeming with Orkish raiders. It will be only a matter of time before we run into one of them."

"That would be unpleasant indeed," agreed Hitome. "But may I ask where we are going? Surely you must know this place better than I do."

"We'll need to check what we've got first," said Gialia.

Communication was out of question. The vox on the Devilfish had been severely damaged by the impact. All Fire Warriors had a channel of their own, but it was short range, one or two miles at most. In the meantime, however, at least ammunition wasn't a huge concern. He had sixteen sets of batteries for the plasma reactor within the pulse rifle, including the ones he salvaged from his former brethrens, and six photon grenades, but no hard-counter to vehicles.

The Ork didn't have anything worth taking. Their primitive-looking guns looked as dangerous to its users just as it was dangerous to everything else and their close combat weapons were too large and awkward to use. Food was worryingly low, as it turned out the Devilfish didn't carry much and Gialia speculated he only had enough for three days, and the nearest settlement might take weeks. Inside the war trukk, apart from some messily half-eaten Gretchin, chewed to bare bones at some points, there wasn't anything else an Orks might consider ration.

With the help of Hitome, Gialia piled up the corpses and used a burna to incinerate the Orks and Tau separately along with all weapons they could not carry. Then, he used it on the damaged trukk, leaving nothing for the Orks to reclaim

"We'll need to fine more supplies for our journey," said Gialia, after gathering up everything they could bring along the way. "And some means of communication. We need to be fully aware of the situation."

"How?" asked Hitome expectantly.

"There is artificial oasis in this dessert," Gialia clarified. "We build those a while back so that anyone who gets lost in the dessert can come and seek for help. There is also a vox network there that might give us access to the main channel. I know one just about fifty kilometers from here. It's that way."

"Sounds good to me," Hitome confirmed approvingly. "Let's move then. May the spirits of the ancestors guide our path."

Even though he hated to admit, Gialia found himself unable to pick up the pace with the Eldar who was ridiculously quick on his feet, one moment he was here, the other he was gone. No doubt Hitome would reach the mentioned oasis a great deal faster if he hadn't had to stop every five minutes for the Shas'ui to keep up. Then again, the agile warrior would be wandering blind without him, so that was a bit of mutual support seen here.

They headed north for a couple of hours when they stumbled upon what was left of a skirmish between Orks and who else besides other Orks. Eight ramshackle vehicles were ablaze and scores of Greenskins laid dead, their weapons looted by the victors and bodies chopped to pieces for extra rations. There seemed to be two war clans taking part in this feud, although which one they were Gialia didn't bother to discern. Even when facing a common enemy, these savage bellicose creatures could not suppress the urge to cut down one another.

The sun was beneath the distant mountains. Dawn was red as if billion gallons of Ork blood had been spilled on the horizon to make the color. Soon, darkness was upon them. Gialia switched on his night vision and wondered if Hitome had one, presumable did.

"The stars are gone, obscured by the interminability of the night and consumed between the jaws of the off-world beast," the Striking Scorpion indicated the sky which was but an endless black void. Gialia was never good at astronomy, and even if he was, he doubted he would understand much how Hitome elaborated the whole thing in his tongue. "When I first arrived here, they were up there shimmering that direction like holy guardians watching the tomb of an ancient hero, but now they have been extinguished. This is patently the work of an evil, massive force on the move, tireless and relentless, like a voracious predator ever eager for flesh and bone to grind to dust, and eternally hungry for souls to send to their ending."

Gialia scoffed. Although what the Eldar said couldn't be disputed as wrong, he didn't want to hear such pessimism simply because it reminded him how powerless he was and the many legions of Orks he still had to kill.

Then, all of the sudden, Hitome stripped, fell, slipped and rolled down the hill, engulfing him in sand. At first, Gialia thought he had somehow stumbled upon one of the Orks' booby traps, these simple-minded creatures more cunning than they appeared. The Shas'ui was wary until he could find no sign of imminent danger.

No WAAAAARG!. No DAKADAKA! No nothing. Just pure sloppiness.

"What's wrong out there?" asked Gialia, suppressing the grin running across his countenance. "Are you alright?"

"I am not injured," replied the Eldar as he got himself back up, albeit some difficulties coping with the soft sand which buried to his ankles. "If I caused you any disturbance than you must excuse me. The terrain is so barren and is alien to me. First time I've seen it, in fact."

"Then what kind of place have you been to?" Gialia sniggered.

The Eldar seemed immune to the derision. "Not many, this is the first time I've been deployed in combat. The place I grew up was covered by vast evergreen forests and giant snowy mountains that reach the sky."

Gialia frowned, saying, "I thought you said you're from the Craftworld."

"Not always," Hitome shook his head. "I was born and raised on the Exodite World of Salena where most of my life has dedicated to. For a while, I used to enjoy the solitary and care-free life there. In time, however, I grew tired of its cornucopia, its banality, its offering no challenge at all. It was not enough, I yearn for self-completion, to fulfill my duty to the Eldar race as one of its member. I aspire for the thrills and sensation that only war could bring. So, I train and prepare myself for the battles to come. When the recruiting fleet came, I did not hesitate to jump at the chance."

Gialia left no comments otherwise his candor might ruin their newly-forged correlation. He resented all warlike beings. While others made wars for the platitude notions of honour and glory, the Tau only did so as their last resort, when there was absolutely nothing else that could benefit the Greater Good. The thought of how savage his race had once been before the emergence of the Ethereal sickened him.

The two moved on wordlessly for the next hour or so when they came across what they were looking for. The oasis could be seen from miles away thanks to its lights which were automatically turned on to serve as beacons for wanderers in the dark. At this stage, however, it was a double-edged knife, as none could tell what other unwanted attention it might attract.

Hitome scouted ahead while Gialia walked cautiously from behind, making sure the area was secure.

"The filth of the invasion has not reached this place," concluded Hitome after a while's search. Gialia nodded, but remained vigilant with his gun firmly at his grip.

Amidst the graceful trees, a small lake laid right at the middle of the oasis. The Striking Scorpion put down his weapons gently, approached it and removed his helmet, allowing his waterfall green hair to drop on his shoulder and back. This was the first time Gialia saw the true face of an Eldar. Hitome would have been taken for a human whom Gialia had seen too often but for his pale skin and sharp features, especially the pointy ears. His eyes, too were green.

Then, he kneeled subtly as if bowing before a venerable, joined his open hand and scoop the water from the lake. Normally, the Tau didn't permit drinking in such primitive and uncivilized manner, but Gialia cut the slack on him for this one. Besides, this place was designed for wanderers who, tired and exhausted, would pay little heed to regulations.

Gialia kept a watchful eye on the surroundings. The air was chilling at night. It was quiet, a little too quiet.

For a moment, Gialia thought the dessert was playing a trick on his mind and that he was imagining the sand was moving. Then, he could swear it: the sand was really alive. Out of curiosity more than others, Gialia brought up his rifle and fired. Something strange happened, and dark liquid seemed to materialize from nowhere, drenching the terrain like blood from a wound.

With a throaty howl, the Kommandos took off their camouflage and started firing exuberantly. Evidently, they had been stalking the two for quite sometimes now, and no doubt would have succeeded if not discovered.

Instinct kicked in and Gialia hurled himself behind cover, a second before a volley of shells ripped through the air he had been standing. A quick glance told him Hitome had taken up the same maneuver. The Kommandos were especially dangerous amongst the Orks, being the pitifully few who could master the art of patience and having better accuracy then the rest. They used customized weapons with a variety of different ammos.

Gialia knew the drill. He stood, shouldered, aimed and fired. His third shot dispatched another opponent. The rest of the Orks didn't take cover, presumable too busy shooting and roaring for anything else. Perhaps they weren't as smart as he thought they were. A third went down, which was quickly followed by the fourth, both their heads exploded to blood mist, testament to how powerful pulse rifle could be, even at long range, and that was the last of them.

No sooner had he finished of the last of the Ork Kommandos than he heard the rumbling noise growing closer. He turned just in time to see a war trukk which had been previously hidden from view thanks to the sand dune. It was poorly built and maintained. Without any plating on it, Gialia could see the engine: crude and cumbersome it might be, it kept the thing running, and he had no doubt it would continue to do so unless he intervened.

His hunter cadre training finally paying off, Gialia placed his shots carefully and one managed to hit the exposed fuel tank. The trukk went off in a vivid orange-red fire ball, lit up the sky brilliantly like a scorching meteor.

A second trukk, or battlewagon rather, came to view, this one much better fortified, and Gialia couldn't fathom a thick line of red paint that had been daubed along both its flanks. Red goes faster, that's what the Orks like to say. A spiky ram was embedded into its façade where a Deff Roller should have been.

Knowing his pulse rifle wouldn't cause any harm more than to wipe the paint of the thing, Gialia aimed for the gunner above and killed it with a single shot. The Ork slid down the hatch, and fortunately none inside had gather the wit to take its place. The battlewagon slew to a halt about twenty meters from the oasis, its entire occupants, including the driver churning out. All of them had crude knives and axes, some were holding pistol bolters, though they demonstrated the notorious lack of accuracy as always.

"Get dam!" roared one of the Orks which Gialia assume to be the Nob. It was a head taller than the other boyz, who were in turn, a head taller than the Tau. The order was followed by the typical bangs to the head, a common trait amongst the Orks.

"It's my turn," said Hitome briskly. No sooner had Gialia registered the Eldar Striking Scorpion leaping to combat like a green gust than he had already dispatched the first of the Sluggas.

More shots came in from behind. Gialia saw at least three dozen, many of them with shootas, try to rush them. There was no sign of any other transport that might have carried them. They were coming in too quick, not even his marksmanship would be able to hold them off. In a matter of seconds, it would be all over.

Abruptly, hails of plasma fires cut into the Orks. Enemy's figures weren't simply hit, they were destroyed. Bodies vaporized in clouds of atomized tissue. The volley blew clean through the front rank, violently detonated them, and decimated the row behind. The sign of a Tau skimmer transport heavily armed with turrets should have been a welcoming sight for Gialia but for the flag it was bearing: the blasphemous insignia depicting the circle of the Greater Good being impaled by two crossed swords.

This belonged to the partisans, shameless wretches who had abandoned the Ethereal teaching and fled deep into the dessert to pursue their base desires. Gialia felt his pulse rising, anger filling his heart. These Tau knew perfectly of the Mont'au, the consequences of their going back against and putting themselves above the Greater Good, yet went for it anyway.

About two squads of traitors moved out from the vehicle. They wore dark-red armor similar to Fire Warriors apart from a long antenna sprouting on their back and used the same weapons. Most of them faced the Orks, but some pointed their weapons at Gialia's direction.

"Why are you doing this?" cried Gialia as the dissidents pinned him down behind a rock. "We should be on the same side. The Orks are our common enemy."

"We are on no side with the likes of you," said one of the traitors, apparently their commander. "The Greater Good is nothing but lies and deception. We are those few who are blessed with the vision to see through it and the courage to stand against it. Commander Farsight has shown us the way to true freedom. That is the only truth which you will either accept or perish."

A rocket was fired. It flung blindly through the renegade transport, which was not even close to hitting it. A Deff Dread responsible for it immediately earned its retaliation, blasted apart by a better guided missile from the Tau. Munition cooked up, incinerating several running boyz nearby. Gialia looked up and saw the silhouette of a Battlesuit hovered down equipped with jet pack, an assault cannon on one arm and a khopesh blade on the other. Presumably, the dissidents were joined by former members of the Earth Caste.

Two renegades went down to the Shootas, but that was all the Orks could do, paying dearly for their impulsive attack. Outgunned and outmatched, within seconds there was nothing left of the but for a few unpleasant stains on the sand. Running out of green targets to kill, the traitors altogether turned their guns on Gialia.

The Shas'ui was desperate. The firing was so thick he couldn't even take pot shots at them. If only a miracle could happen.

And it did. The renegade transport exploded in a blizzard of burning metal which showered the warriors around it. Gialia couldn't believe what he was seeing: the Eldar was holding crude form of a rocket launcher, no doubt looting from a dead Ork; he had to stand quite close to make the shot without missing.

The renegade recovered quickly, but Hitome was already in motion. Guns turned on him but he was already amongst the Tau, hacking left and right with his humming blade. Gialia knew the mechanism and purpose of chain-weapons, but this was the first time he had seen one in play. The intention was to cause as much bleeding as possible to the opponent by slicing so messily that a blow to the arm or leg could still lead to lethality while clean cuts could not. In a matter of seconds, the renegade were utterly slaughtered, some never got the chance to fire their weapons or to find out what actually hit them.

The Battlesuit fired but missed entirely, the range too close for that now. It brought down its khopesh in attempt to maim Hitome but the Eldar dodged that easily. To Gialia's amazement, Hitome made a jump which seemed almost impossible, catching the Battlesuit in midair. Like an executioner performing his duty, he plunged the chainblade into the thing's chest and slashed it across the width of its chest. The Battlesuit lost balance and was knocked from the sky, sent tumbling down with a powerful _**Crnnnnnch!**_. If the pilot had not been killed by the blade, there was no way he could survive the impact of the fall.

The fight was over. The host of Orks Hitome was fighting were also dead to the last.

One renegade Tau was still twitching. His neck was severe but the wound was not deep enough to kill him instantly, and now he involuntarily began to bleed to death. Hitome approached him, and even though the Eldar looked as nonchalant as always, Gialia could sense a tinge of disappointment in him, as if he had expected every foe he fought to die with a single blade strike. Clearing his throat and muttering something in his own tongue, Hitome performed the coup de grace, taking the Tau's head clean off.

"They were your kinsmen, weren't they?" inquired Hitome worriedly, as if he had done something horribly wrong. Gialia was flattered. Even though the Eldar didn't know what was going on, he killed the renegade because of his comrade."They were attacking you. Why were they attacking you?"

"No longer my kind, I'm afraid," responded Gialia. "They've chosen to desert from the Empire and live the life of rats. They are no better than the Orks. We shall not tolerate this. They are worthless bastards who don't deserve to be called kinsmen. For those do not wish to embrace the Greater Good, there could be but one outcome. Anyway," he snapped. "Where did you get that launcher?"

The Eldar pointed at the dead Kommandos. "From them. One was carrying it. He's dead now."

"How did you get there?" Gialia estimated the Eldar only had about ten seconds to run the distance all the way there, get the weapon and return, assuming it cost him only one second to slay an Ork.

"I ran."

"How did you run that far within such a short period?"

The Eldar shrugged, as if Gialia was asking why every species with a civilization in the universe had two arms, two legs and a symmetrical body. "I sprinted."

Wordlessly, Gialia embraced the Eldar whose expression was one of utter surprise. Time seemed to slow and even the relentless dessert gusts abruptly came to a halt. He knew everything would be alright, not a thing in this world too far or too difficult to achieve, that he would no longer feel afraid. And that was because he now he a friend he could count on, a friend he could trust, a true comrade who would stand up for him no matter what.

That was the whole point from the start, what really mattered most, either the Ethereal's Greater Good or Craddol's teaching or Emperor's creed: friendship and unity is the finest weapons of all. Without those, a man is no man at all.

The Eldar seemed to melt under his grip, and that was not because Gialia had the strength to do so. Despite himself, Hitome let out a fainted smile.

"We are comrades now," he said mildly. "Let us protect each other. The way of the Tau, the path of the Eldar."


	3. Chapter 3: What is war?

_**We've smoked **_**these**_** Orks, yes. We've smoked **_**the**_** Orks, no. But soon, we will have smoked **_**the**_** Orks.**_

Amelda Eisenhorn, Inquisitor – Warlock, Ordo Hereticus, after the Tristian triumphant.

_**I came across a dwelling when I was darting across the battlefield. No weapons, no propaganda to denounce the Emperor, no degenerating viruses, an ordinary family was there. It was their son's birthday. A piece of cake on the plate that was never eaten. More than a century ago, I was a young boy on Armageddon when Ghazkull Thraka launched the third war. I know how it feels to lose your love ones for reasons you don't even remotely understand. Orks are savage beasts that would do anything to fulfill their base needs, but we are different, aren't we? Yet, every second I spent in that room, I knew with my heart that a happiness was terminated by something blessed by the Emperor. Is this what you call justice?**_

Warren Megurine, Warlock, currently working for the Ordo Hereticus.

* * *

Gialia and Hitome spent the night in the oasis without any further disturbance from either the Orks or the Tau traitors. The temperature was freezing cold and the winds chilly and relentless. The Eldar slept on a tree and under the protection of its leaves, thus blissfully ignoring nature's harshness. Gialia was less fortunate, being less agile and deft to do so. Even though Hitome offered to help him up, the Shas'ui eventually declined due to his not being used to doing so, and he didn't relish the prospect of falling down while asleep. In the end, he put himself up inside the Ork battlewagon, the only vehicle that was not a complete write-off after the battle.

It was nowhere near being home from home, and Gialia woke up like a fish out of water. He twisted and he swayed violently, even though the space around him was not confined. He dreamt of Ga'lia, and his wife, faces he doubted he would ever see again. Deciding further sleep would be infeasible, Gialia exited the wagon and headed outside for some fresh air. The sun was rising, and things were clear. The Ork corpses exposed to the cold had switched their color from green to dark blue, testament of the uncompromising weather on Fio'la. If any of the renegade had turned the other way around, Gialia failed to notice.

There was Hitome, sitting on a stone in front of a mirror. His chin seemed to be covered in some sort of white foamed, but what really mystified Gialia was the way he held a small, sharp silver knife against his face. After reading about this strange habit amongst human and Eldar, this was the first time ever Gialia had seen a man shave. Tau don't shave. They don't even have facial hair.

Next to the mirror was a picture. In the picture was a slightly better-looking Hitome and…Hitome? It took Gialia a while to realize the female right besides him which would have been indistinguishable from Hitome but for her relatively large breast size, a common feature found in female. Up till now, he still had difficulty telling apart male and female of other races; Orks were much easier, being completely single-gendered.

"You are awake," began Hitome, hearing Gialia approaching.

"You too," said Gialia. "May I ask who is in the picture?" He flushed at this. "If this is personal and you must excuse me."

"Not at all," the Eldar replied mildly. "My sister, Sakura. We had time together, but all good things must come to an end, and a bird must leave its nest soon or later. She was against me signing up. Even though I love her, this is the life I chose, the adventure I yearn for. The path of the warrior forever deprives me of her just as the universe forever deprives her of I. I have no regret."

"Do you have any relative?" Hitome tilted his head. "When you enter this war, did you leave them behind?"

Gialia sighed sadly. He didn't ask for it to progress like this. There was no turning back now, and the ball must keep rolling, otherwise he would become infidel, which was intolerable. "I had a wife and a son?"

"You had?" asked Hitome smartly.

"They were on Kia'luai when the Bloody Toof (Space Hulk) emerged," explained Gialia, his eyes a bit watery. "It came without warning, our sensors only detecting it as soon as it arrived in the material dimension. Unprepared and under-armed, the defense forces didn't stand a chance. Within few days the entire planet was engulf by war and the Greenskins roamed free unchecked and unopposed, killing heedlessly with no concept of mercy or remorse. An Uash'o from Bork'an was a dispatched to aid, but after thoroughly evaluating the situation," Gialia's voice took on a tinge of distaste, "they deemed the planet infeasible to rescue, and so abandoned it for the advance of the Greater Good. Of the sixty-two evacuation ships, only two made it through, both heading for Bork'an for shelter. I don't if my family are on one of them or not."

"Then," said Hitome feelingly. "Maybe we are not that different, at least in terms of hating Orks. Let it consolidate your mind. Let vegeance fuel you, for the guilty must suffer. After all, what is the point of war without a rightous purpose?"

Gialia did not reply, but the manner in which Hitome managed to stay so relaxed saying those words really appalled him. Never had it struck to him that vengeance was the right decision. Other races allow worlds to burn, people to die and valuable resources to be exhausted for simple, mundane purposes of paying back and getting even. But not the Tau. At least...Knowing that his race was once one of the savage filled his heart with sorrow. Grudge is a poison. It eats away men without him ever realizes it. For the sake of the Greater Good, that must not happen.

"I'm going back to sleep," said Gialia. The Eldar looked baffled.

* * *

"We can't stay here forever. We need to keep moving," Gialia brought it up while enjoying breakfast with consisted of reconstituted vegetable in can. Hunter cadre procedures were strict and they allowed Fire Warriors just about enough time to take sustenance without causing digestive disorientation, leaving little else to savor, or even to recognize, what they were actually eating, not that the food was exceptionally tasty, though. There were no officers around here, so Gialia made an exception for himself and relax as much as possible. In addition, he burped a little, an act which might lead to several whips according to hunter cadre regulation.

"I believe it is the inevitability," Hitome concurred. He was munching happily like a ravenous child on a piece of cake made from the fruit of Da'kiau, which Gialia didn't have a sweet tooth for. Approximately two scores of packages of this type of cake were found inside the supply depot. For this occasion, the Eldar had taken off his gauntlets (presumably because they were soaked with blood), revealing a pair of pale-colored hands thick with insignias that would take Gialia the rest of his life to find out the meanings. "But I could think of no other thing more fruitless than traveling blind in the middle of the badland. Please tell me you know this place like the back of your hand."

The Shas'ui shrugged. "The desserts are vast and settlements are few in between. If I'm not mistaken, there's a settlement of medium size in that direction. It'll take us approximately a week travel from here if we use that," Gialia indicated the Ork battlewagon. It was undeniable crude, but that meant that its controls were correspondingly simple, and Gialia was able to work them out without much difficulty. "Ash'an Da'lioa is its name, the city of cliffs and bridges."

"Will the Orks be there?" asked Hitome expectantly, and Gialia could feel his eagerness to go on with the killing. They both felt it.

"I would be surprised if they aren't," Gialia grinned. "Any population center is likely to be their target, and they have proper maps. What's the matter? Don't tell me you're too scared to pull your socks up."

"Of course not," said Hitome, smiling. Even though they had only known each other for two days, the Eldar already had become the best of companions and the greatest of friends Gialia could ever hope for. He was noble, trustworthy, and generous and his expertise in close combat filled out Gialia's only lack perfectly. "There's no greater pleasure than to slay the enemies of the Craftworld in combat, especially the ones that are as vulgar, as vile, and as vicious as the Orks. Too many of them in the universe. Can't get them all."

"They'll be there in numbers," Gialia promised.

"Doesn't matter," said Hitome enthusiastically. "In early time, Eldanesh and Ulthanesh were pitted against an enemy much larger in term of size. They stood together, fought together, and triumphed. I believe we can do the same things here. We'll show these Greenskins who's the boss around here. As long as we're together, nothing can stop us."

"Still," Gialia persisted. "There are just the two of us. What can we possible do?"

"Maybe," said Hitome vigorously. "But every oak must first be an acorn. We are an army of two today. Tomorrow we will stand amongst an army of many millions, driving the Greenskins pace by pace off this land."

"Good to hear that," returned Gialia. "The Greater Good always welcome optimism. Alright, let's get into gear and move out. It is imperative that we leave this place as soon as possible."

The two brought everything they could, for there was no telling when they would be able to replenish their supplies and it was better to be sure now than to be sorry later. Fortunately, the wagon itself had a cistern attached to its back, apparently for foraging purpose, which was running half way to empty when they refilled it up to its maximum capacity. The interior of the battlewagon, designed primarily for troop transport, was thoroughly packed with cargos of foods in their conditioner box, allowing them not to go stale even after a long time. In addition to that were two barrels of petroleum, as fuel was equally important for the trip.

All things wasn't too necessary for the journey were discarded, including many Orkish weapons hanging inside the battlewagon that never got to be used, apart from the rockit launcher Hitome plundered from the Kommandos as trophy. Despite his contempt towards Orkish technology, Gialia was glad that he did so. It was the only means they had to counter vehicles at the present.

Seeing Hitome doing most of the work made Gialia felt small and lazy. By the time he had put the first container in place, the Eldar had already loaded five. Gialia assumed Hitome must be stronger than he appeared.

The communication array worked fine, but not in the way Gialia had expected, much to his disappointment. All channels were over-flooded by unidentifiable signals with awkward wavelengths that were considered non-existent, and those that were made out were full of obscene insults and barbaric gibberish, two aspects which can be argued to make up the entire Orkish language. In the end, Gialia abandoned all hopes in it.

They departed at noon, but not before setting the whole place afire, trees, buildings, discarded weapons and corpses alike, again using the burna pillaged from the Orks. Gialia was not particularly in favor of scorched earth, a tactic widely used by the Tau against Orks, but he was taking no chances. Even though having to take pot luck was inevitable in the future, he wanted to be as sure as possible for the time being, and the prospect of letting all those resources fall to the hands of the Orks was not acceptable in his books.

"The road is long and arduous," said Gialia as he started the engine. The sound it made was anything but pleasant, like the wail of a patient who just woke up in the middle of an operation, but it was pointless crying over spilled milk.

"But not without a destination," Hitome finished.

* * *

It was the first time Gialia had ever been on wheels his entire life, and it wasn't a good experience. All Tau vehicles either walked on foot or were maintained in midair by antigravity plates.

The Orks that built the battlewagon must have never heard of the concept of suspension, or considered it something for sissies. As they drove on for about half an hour, Gialia started to have doubts about the wisdom of this course of action, but they didn't really have much of a choice, and so he would have to grin and bear it. Attempting to walk out of the desert was all but impossible, given the distance between them and the nearest settlement, and however uncomfortable the transport might have been, it was least well adapted to the terrain, despite the constant bumping.

Three days passed by without incidents, either good or bad. Hitome was playing the part by scouting from his hatch, the optic enhancers embedded in his helmet allowing him to spot an enemy from many miles away. Gialia was hopeful he would come across any of the Tau forces, but there was no stroke of luck. The entire desert was crawling with Orks, some moving in giant convoys larger than many Imperial Guards regiments combined, others in small parties equal to several squads, and the bulk of their force was estimated to be heading towards Da'ranui, where most oil refineries in Fio'la were situated. It was largely thanks to Hitome working around the clock tirelessly that their journey was trouble-free for the most part.

Even though they got on like a house on fire, the two didn't exchange much conversation throughout their time together, insistent on avoiding anything irrelevant to the matter at hand. At some point in their journey, Hitome referred to Gialia as Ve'li Gialia the silver barrel, citing his excellence in range combat.

"That's a bit flattering, don't you think?" Gialia chuckled. True, he was one of the best warrior of the Morning Star Coalition, a hardened veteran of dozens of conflict against the stubborn Imperium of the Gue'la, and of course, the foul Greenskins.

"You deserve it," Hitome replied. "You are one of the most skilled users of gun I've ever seen."

"And you are by far the most powerful warrior I've had the chance to meet," said the Shas'ui. He was neither joking nor extravagating. "Gialia would be nice.

Even while putting his head fully in the game, the Eldar still had time to indulge himself in the breathtaking scenery: sand dunes that sparkled under sunlight as though they were covered specks of gold dust, magnificent mountains with needle-like peaks and of course, the Sal'ian cliff. The Sal'ian cliff was as wide as a skyscraper was tall, and it cut through the entire continent, uncannily reminiscent of the face of a veteran Gialia had met. The Sil'vra Bridge was already down when they reached it, and Gialia could only assume a real shambles must have taken place. Dozens Ork vehicles and at least two Gargants lied at the bottom of the cliff, Hitome told him.

Gialia let out a spiteful swear, one he would avoid ever using in his life except the time his debt collectors called him in the dead of night, even though he had already made the payment via credit that morning. "The Sil'vra Bridge was a magnificent testimony of the Earth Caste's architecture genius," he said wearily. "It's so painful to see it has already gone. The Orks will pay for this."

In the end, they had to take an alternative route across Kay'lian Bridge which took quite longer. The bridge was incomplete and would have been under construction but for the Orkish invasion. Nevertheless, it did the job and got them through.

On the fourth day, or night, rather, Hitome spotted a lone battlewagon heading aimlessly in the desert. It was a rare sight, as Orks by nature would prefer to be with as many companies as possible, even if they did not get along well.

"We can handle this, can't we?" Gialia asked rhetorically.

"I believe so," Hitome replied.

Gialia pulled the battlewagon over, flashing the lights on and off to create a signal. Gialia had little idea what he was doing, but it did the tricks in the end. The Orks seemed to be taken for a ride, as their battlewagon slowed down accordingly. Such gullible creatures, Gialia noted with some amusement.

As soon as it was within range, Hitome popped up from the hatch, rocket-launcher raised. Shouting, "Eat this, you misbegotten bastards!" he gave the Orks the taste of their own medicine.

It was a beautiful shot for such an ugly weapon. The explosive projectile caught the battlewagon head on, detonating the driver's compartment any whatever weapons mounted on it. Half killed in the initial blast, two dozens Orks surged out from the wreckage like blood from a knife wound. Even though surprised and disoriented, they didn't seem any less aggressive. Between Gialia's expert marksmanship and Hitome awesome melee capability, the Greenskins didn't stand a chance. It only took the duo five minutes to annihilate them.

There was nothing to loot, not even fuel, but the sensation it felt when delivering retribution upon the irksome Orks was absolving, if not exhilarating. Gialia hated to believe it was only a drop in the ocean, and that the invasion was still going on, fifty warriors not making any huge difference.

* * *

"I think we're approaching a town," reported Hitome the next morning.

"That must be it, Ash'an Da'lioa," said Gialia. From behind the glassless window, the Shas'ui tried to bring the image into clearer focus, but the heat haze was already beginning to shimmer over the sand, and despite his enhancer in his helmet, it was hard to make out anything other than the vague outlines of the walls and buildings. If there were any inhabitant, he was unable to resolve their details. "Can you see anything from here?"

"Nothing good," replied Hitome darkly, who was blessed with greater eyesight . "The Tau no longer control the place. I think we had better proceed with cautious."

"Right," Gialia concurred. The idea of trotting blithely in an Ork infested killing ground was far from appeal, but there was no other applicable alternative. The next settlement would be too far, and that would put the supply they had at risk of running out, not to mention there was no telling whether the Orks would be their first. "We do not want to attract any attention, do we?'

With that in mind, they entered the town at little more than walking pace, having discovered that the engine was marginally quieter at lower speeds, keeping the ever-present dune fields between as much as possible to muffle the noise even further. Eventually, they crossed the line of the road and turned along it. On the smooth surface of the highway, the ride was much steadier, and Gialia kept them trained on the vista ahead with little more effort than if he had been scooting along in an anti-gravity vehicle.

Hitome was right, not that Gialia ever cast doubt upon his words. Signs of fighting were ostensible everywhere, none of the structures Gialia saw having been undamaged, and several had collapsed entirely. The streets ahead were choked with fallen debris and leftovers of the battle that had recently took place. Two dozens Orkish vehicles were ablaze, most of them crude trukks and wagons, but Gialia could still recognize one or two Dreadnoughts, and many hundreds greenskinned abominations laid dead. As they came closer, Gialia saw the wreckages of the missile silos that killed them, and the husks of two Hammerheads and four Devilfish, in amongst the dismembered bodies of Fire Warriors. By the looks of it, they were slaughtered in a frantic retreat after the barricades were overwhelmed.

"Doesn't look good at all," said Hitome, as the battlewagon skirted through a couple of burned-out grav-cars, which had evidently been hit by heavy weapons of some kind. They looked like civilian models, the thin sheet metal of their bodywork ripped open like ration pack. Gialia had expected plundering into a battleground, but ended up in an abattoir. He tried not to wander his eyes too closely at their contents. Whoever the occupants might have been, they had been piled in regardless of the cars' nominal carrying capacities, their charred bones tumbled together in death, so thoroughly entangled it would take a bio-scanner to tell which bodies they originally come from.

Or perhaps all it took was just Hitome. "Refugees," the Eldar went on plainly with the facts. "A family of five. Father, mother and three children. No, six. The mother was pregnant. They had nothing to fight back. The tried to run, but the vehicle failed to start and the Orks murdered them."

"Stop," said Gialia raucously, feeling his anger rising, his heart beating faster. He bit his upper lips hard and almost bled. A tear trickled from his bloodshot eye.

Impossible. The outer defense fell days ago. They should have been warned in advance and evacuated. Why does it look like they were taken by surprise? Has something gone wrong? What happened here was a massacre.

Hitome remained emotionless, if not nonchalant, but he was hardly to blame. If those dead had been Eldar and not his people, Gialia wouldn't have lamented them.

"The scene is harrowing enough without you clarifying it." Gialia let out a deep sigh.

Hitome looked worried. "I'm sorry. I did not understand your feeling. I'm…" He was unsure of himself, like a son who just got scolded by his mother. How naïve, Gialia thought.

"I'm not mad at you," the he snapped, irritated. "It is downcast indeed to see so many of my people slaughtered. But now we have bigger things to concern rather than arguing about this. The dead stay dead and the living must carry on."

Hitome nodded. "Nothing here is alive, not even the victorious," he continued, looking around from his position. "The Orks were here, but the question is, are they still? Have they got bored and move on the some place else to defile and desecrate?"

"They are still here alright," responded Gialia grimly, indicating the tallest building in the whole town. The Union Tower had been a magnificent sight since the days of settlement, the sacrosanct symbol of the Greater Good that had enlightened the people of Ash'an Da'lioa ever since. Now the once proud banner of Tau was gone, replaced by two tattered standards, one displaying a pile of primitive weapons bunched together like messy toys, no more advance than the ones the Tau had used during the Mont'au, and the other with blood dripping from a vicious iron jaw. "We have learned the banner is what represents their unity in a sanctimonious way. Wherever it rises, it marks the territory of Orks. They're using the town as a base of operation where to re-supply and re-strengthen the invasion ahead. Ash'an Da'lioa is only the beginning. Soon, there will be a whole system of them throughout the desert."

"Sacrilege!" he added with a gritting of his teeth. Not even the death of millions of Orks would alleviate his rage now.

"Is there any resistance from the Tau that has yet to be removed?" asked Hitome.

"Maybe," Gialia sighed, remembering he still had the vox. "It's worth a try." The Fire Warrior turned on the short-range telecom attached to his helmet and started listening for an answer. It was remarkable less rapturous compared to the long-range one at the oasis, presumable Orks saw no need to keep small groups in touch with one another. "This is Shas'ui Gialia of Omega Kauai, Morning Star Coalition, does anyone read me?"

No one responded. "This is Shas'ui Gialia of Omega Kauai, Morning Star Coalition, does anyone read me?" Gialia repeated.

There was a buzz, followed by a male voice which sounded quite tense. "This is Shas'vre Il'laui of Red Moon Battlegroup. Can you hear me? Can you hear what I'm saying?" Over that, Gialia was sure he heard gunfire in the background.

"Loud and clear, sir," replied Gialia. A spark of hope materialized on his mind. The Tau had not lost, at least not yet, and he was here to tip the balance.

"Are you in charge there?" Il'laui went on.

"Sort of, sir," Gialia responded, which was more or less accurate. "What is your situation over there?"

"The Orks are having us pinned hard. We are holding them, but casualties are running high. Tell you men that the Greater Good is in dire need of support. Our position is the Awi'alo Trade Union Center Building at the intersection between Mok'ia and Sulo'ai Streets. Please come with haste."

"We'll be there," Gialia promised. "Gialia out."

Turning to Hitome, he said, "You're ready for this?"

"Always," replied Hitome with a warm-hearted smile. "Time to knuckle down and get to business."

* * *

As Gialia had to admit, for such a bulky and crude vehicle, the battlewagon was remarkable fast. It took only ten minutes to get there, albeit constantly bumping into buildings and wreckages of other luckless vehicles. On the way, Gialia spotted some small groups of Orks heading towards the same direction. They didn't mind the battlewagon, assuming it was one of theirs. He could have stopped momentarily to eliminate them easily, but it would mean wasting valuable time for something unavoidable in the near future.

The Trade Union Center Building was truly an unforgettable sight to behold. It was ten storeys high, and as large as a small village. Despite the visible damage that had been done to it, the building retain an elegant simplicity that even the Eldar would have green-eyes (Hitome had green eyes already), with few ornamentations and sigils. A spectator's would spend half of his life before he sighted any right angle in there, even the corners having been thoroughly rounded and smoothed.

Needless to say, the complex was besieged from all directions by the Orks. The defenders had bunkered in and were desperately trying to keep the green tide at bay, with commendable success so far. A few ladders were leaning against the walls but they were unused. Any Ork ten meters from the building was either dead or dying. At this point, the Orks had probably given up the hope of closing in for melee, or at least set it aside until a more propitious moment arose. Hundreds of them were taking cover behind piles of debris, makeshift barricades of even dead of their own, firing back with relentless enthusiasm. The crossfire cost them dearly. Dozens of them fell, molten craters in their chest, torso and face, but not all of them stayed down for long. As Gialia watched, some of them were still fighting even though they bore the wounds that would have killed a Tau two times over.

A rocket hit the left wing of the building, and three Fire Warriors toppled, burning. Two were dead on impact for they were on the third floor. The third got up, writhing violently in his death, screaming and moaning in agony as the flame consumed him. A hail of bolter fire from the Orks reduced the Tau to fine dust, ending his misery.

A deadly precise shot hit a figure in a window. Gialia didn't exactly see anyone get hit, but the blue liquid that spurted out like water from an elephant trunk along with the fact that plasma fire was, until a moment ago, still firing out, suddenly ceased told him it was a kill-shot. There was a sharpshooter amongst the Orks. Gialia had never witnessed marksmanship or anything closely resembling that in these ungraceful and impetuous beasts, but one thing he could say certain about this species was that exceptions to any general rule occurred on a daily basis.

Things were turning grim fast. The Tau held, for now, but they were perilously in a bad position, and it would be only a matter of time before they ran out of bodies and were overwhelmed. Most shots were well-disciplined, but some were sporadic and inexperienced, going wide completely and never coming close to any target. It occurred to Gialia not every Tau in there was from the Fire Caste. The situation was going to retrogress fast unless Gialia intervene at once.

The Shas'ui looked back at Hitome; his opinion would not matter at this point, for Gialia was determined in choosing the next course of action. The Eldar gave a nod permissively, indicating he was on the same wavelength.

"The Bork'an retreated in the face of danger," said Gialia. "But we shall not. After today, it is either death or freedom forever."

Gialia fastened his seatbelt (a feature he added to the battlewagon due to the absence of one); things were going to get a little bumpy from now on. Muttering to the Greater Good, Gialia hit the pedal and accelerated the vehicle the maximum speed, driving it right into the largest concentration of Orks. How they didn't see it coming was open to question; the noise from the abused engine was pretty loud. Whatever the case, they were unprepared when the sucker punch struck. The battlewagon ploughed straight through the center of them, scattering the lucky ones, leaving the rest either impaled by the spikes or flattened under its wheels with crunching and squishy noise.

The battlewagon was unstoppable. Nothing could stand in its way, absolutely nothing, not even a wartrukk. The ram, despite lacking the prowess of a Deff Rolla, did its work laudably. The wartrukk was virtually torn in two, both pieces exploded, killing Orks and furthermore causing havoc. The gunfire from the building halted momentarily as shooters reevaluate the battlefield before resuming. Now knowing that an ally was coming to their aide, the defenders fought with more hope and less anxiety.

Gialia hit the emergency brakes (another add-on from him); the momentum almost jerked him off his chair. He grabbed his pulse rifle and switched it to close range mode, full auto; Hitome stood readily with his chainsword and shuriken pistol.

"For the Craftworld," shouted the Eldar.

"For the Greater Good," bawled the Tau.

Hitome exited the battlewagon first and immediately fell upon the Orks like a descending angel of destruction. Gialia followed, but remained at the hatch for cover. The turmoil was taking its toll. The Orks were caught by surprised and could not react; even if they could react, they were sure to survive just as Gialia was sure he could throw an Ork with one hand.

Hitome…Hitome was terrifying, so fast, so steady, so direct, so elegant, and so deadly. He fought with total economy, and no blows were wasted. Every swing, every slash, every strike, every counter-spin, ever stab, every kick, every punch, every head-butt, and every shot found a target. It was in this kind of situation surrounded by conspicuously outnumbering opponents that Gialia could see his comrade's brutal skills of a killer in their best and worse. As a veteran of the Second Damocle Gulf Crusade, Gialia had fought the superhuman known as Space Marines who had not heard of defeat, but what Hitome was doing just now would put them all to shame. Within seconds, the first Ork mob had been cleared, dismembered and headless corpses everywhere, and the pavement was doused in blood.

Gialia unleashed a hail of plasma fire at the Orks, killing three instantly. Finally, an Ork Nob which Gialia was quick to identify with a fair degree of certainty due to its ampleness and its emphasizing instructions with blows to the head (not unlike one of Gialia's less famous training officers in the hunter cadre) pointed a finger to his battlewagon and shouted, "Oi! We've been ambushed. Let'z get ter killing, boyz. Blast dem good, ya gitz."

Gialia, of course, didn't wait for him to finish what he was saying. The Nob's cranium detonated like a balloon filled with water. For such a big body, the brain was remarkable small, which can be expected from an Ork. The death of their leader sent the boyz to disarray. Gialia made short work of them with close-range bursts from his rifle. Once that was done, his eyes began to wander for the Ork sniper. Being dangerously cunning, he was on top of Gialia's to kill list. He was nowhere to be found, but there were so many carcasses around. Gialia silently prayed one of them was him.

_WAAAARGH! _came the ear-rattling warcry Gialia was all to familiar with.

More Orks emerged from Ducas and Eilo'is Streets. At the spearhead of the blob, Gialia saw Nobz. These were no ordinary Nobz in charge of discipline and cohesion amongst Ork mobs. These Nobz were elite troops bred for the single purpose of annihilation and stomping, the biggest and meanest of all Greenskins.

Aside from the Nobz, about three hundred Orks were heading his way. Too many of them, Gialia thought. Even with his rifle in full auto, there was no way he could take out so many enemies in one go, and Hitome didn't look like capable of dealing with all of them single-handedly either.

Gialia was pondering his next move when the heavy weapon appeared at the edge of his vision. It was a machine gun painted in red which seemed to be three bolters crudely strapped together. On its barrel were three illegible words written in a messy manner: "Luve da Dakka". Its last owner had never had a chance to use it.

Gialia mulled over it. Crude as the thing might be, it might just provide him with the firepower he was resolutely in need of.

Hitome was fighting an Ork who also used a chainsword. Judging from the blood-stained surgical mask and the ridiculous amount of visible augmentation it had, Gialia assumed it must be one of their Pain Boyz or Witch Doctorz. The thing was faster than average Orks thank to its enhancements, but still did not have the speed to match a Striking Scorpion. Hitome evaded a blow with ease, and counter-attacked with a swipe which took its head off.

The Eldar turned around and faced the Ork reinforcement. All the Orks in the vicinity around him were either dead or scared off. A heap of dead bodies and body parts laid under his feet. The sewage drains were choked and plugged with blood and pieces of gore. His armor was so soused in the color red it was impossible to determine which was its original color. He spared a brief glance to Gialia, as if to make sure his comrade was OK. With a brief nod, He went for it.

The Nobz wielded powa klawz, 'uge "ammer and chainaxes, weapons designed for anti vehicles and wholesale destruction rather than fighting a lone, quick moving opponent. No doubt they were intent to bring down the whole building, and Hitome's presence pretty much ruined their plan. The first Nob was unlucky, or too slow. Hitome's chainsword sliced off his bottom jaw in a fountain of viscera. The bone-chilling warcry suddenly became shrills as two thirds of its tongue were now gone. Gialia was astounded. The cut was so clean, so refined, it was subtle as much as it was macabre. The abomination was dead before it hit the ground.

The second Nob swung its 'ammer, but not fast enough. The Striking Scorpion leapt away and avoided it easily. Momentum drove the blow further and out of control. BAAM! was the sound it made as the blunt end of the 'ammer found the face of another Nob, thoroughly flattening it. Hitome swiftly gutted the Ork; the toothed weapon effortlessly penetrated its scanty armor, skewed its heart and severed its spine. The death was mercifully quick. The Nob got hit by his own companion was also dead, its face an unrecognizable lump of mush.

To Gialia's surprise, the Orks didn't take the state of affairs seriously enough. Many of them were charging heedlessly to the Trade Union Centre Building whereas the threat posed by Gialia and Hitome was patently more potent as well as easier to eliminate. Gialia squeezed the triggers with his hand, as they were too large and incompatible with his fingers. The outcome was impressive. The weapon barked with a roar louder than even a Greater Knarloc. Enemies died in droves, their bodies reduced to bits of pulps. Some of them retaliated, but they were quickly outgunned by the heavy weapon. Mayhem erupted within their ranks. A Nob absorbed no less than two hundred shots. His torso exploded, creating a crimson mist which drenched the other boyz. A wartrukk came apart under torrential fire, spilling its occupants like a broken jar of biscuits.

"Want some? Get some," Gialia taunted. For the first time, he felt the savage joy of combat. This was it, the purpose of his life just as any other member of the Fire Caste that he had been searching for donkey's years: to shed blood and exact vengeance and justice name of the Greater Good. The Greater Good demands war, and war he shall wage. It felt so great.

Hitome's luck finally ran our when a Nob, more witty than the rest, smack him in the face with its muscular elbow. This was exactly what the Orks should have done in the first place, ignore their cumbersome weapons and start taking advantage of their robust physique. The Eldar was caught off guard, taking the blow head-on, landing hard on the ground. The Nob stepped forward, ready to deliver the death blow. By the look of it, there was not a chance Hitome was going to evade that.

Gialia swerved the weapon to fire, but someone else had beaten him to it. A super-velocity slug hit the Nob in the back of its skull, spilling the content. Gialia was sure the shot came from a railgun, which meant there was a sharpshooter amongst the Tau defenders.

"Asuryan's beard!" Hitome exclaimed. It was a common behavior amongst both humans and Eldar to shout nonsense at a suddeness which the Tau never managed to comprehend.

To Gialia's unspoken dismay, a shot, more accurate than the rest, flew back a second later, and blood gushed from the window where that sharpshooter had been hiding. Gialia wished for the man a swift and painless death. Amidst the chaos and carnage, Gialia saw a small figure darting, like a shadow of a phantom.

The Ork sniper that had been so troublesome from the start.

The patient predator.

The top of his to kill list.


	4. Chapter 4: Changing the odds

Sorry for the long update. Here's chapter 4. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

_"Eldrad was an old fool. He thought he saved the lives of ten thousands Eldar by evading the inevitable. Today, I shall put the lives of tens of thousands of Eldar at stake, so that our enemy (Orks) will not escape retribution."_

**_Autarch Valentine Windsong, Craftworld Craddol, at the Orogami War._**

* * *

Gialia's bolter suddenly went silent. Either the drum had run out or some malfunction had caused it to jam he wasn't sure; only a Mek would know. But one thing he was certain, the weapon, which had proven extremely expedient so far, albeit for its complete lack of utilitarian features (at least for the Tau), had finally lived up its usefulness, and thus it had to be discarded, no matter what. Thankfully, the mob of Orks in front of him were in no condition to fight; in fact, most of them were in no condition to continue living, scattering in a gratifying number of pieces, so the loss of fire-power didn't seem too fatal. At least for now, no enemy was charging his position.

The battle was still raging. Gialia bore witness to only a segment of it, but the intensity was undeniable. Tracer rounds and plasma fire from the plaza impacted the ranks of Greenskins head-on, immediately responded by streams of primitive bullets and some of the more advanced explosive ammos. Both made got and took hits. Every ten Orks that died, a Tau fell. Dead tolls were rising fast, and neither force was giving an inch.

Amidst the carnage and chaos, Gialia lost sight of Hitome. He could only assume the Eldar was in thickest of the fight, which wasn't within the vicinity anymore. The Nobz fighting him were all toasted.

Gialia departed from his battlewagon. Surely, he had the advantage from an elevated position when it came to repelling charging Orks, but he had decided that staying further would make himself unable to benefit the Greater Good, not to mention giving him a sitting duck feeling, which was uncomfortable to say the least. Besides, a dangerous target was on the move, and had to be eliminated, less many of his comrades would die in vain.

The entire area was so thoroughly littered with fallen debris, stricken vehicles, military and civilian alike, and festering carcasses that none of the original terrain features was recognized. Gialia slid through the battlefield, avoiding any contact with the Orks. His Pulse Rifle was effective at taking out enemy from distance, but at this range and against such outnumbering foe, it would be rendered pretty much useless. Fire Warriors weren't equipped with the best weapons for city fights, which contributed to their defeat by the Imperium in the first place.

It was easier than expected. Sometimes, the Orks even ignored him altogether, probably seeing it pointless to waste time and energy charging a lone enemy when the real fight was somewhere else.

Gialia was wondering how Hitome was faring when a rocket went pass him, leaving a trail of black smoke pluming in its path. Hoping it would hit the group of Greenskins emerging from Delith Street, Gialia was disappointed when it swerved away, exploding within a nearby building and doing no visible damage to the Orks. Then, he found out it was intended all along. The building's infrastructure must have been severely damaged during previous skirmishes, for Tau buildings, despite their elegance, were pragmatic and built to withstand earthquakes as much as terrorism. The Orks halted their advance and watched in amazement as seven storey of concrete and steel came down upon them. Hundreds were crushed in the torrent, including two wartrukks and a Boom-tank. A hail of cheer came from the beleaguered defenders.

This was the work of Hitome, Gialia was certain. He and the Rockit Launcher looted from an Ork Kommando. Only the Eldar, speaking of whom, was no where to be seen, could do such a thing. Whispering a silent thanks to the Eldar, Gialia pushed on.

The Shas'ui finally stopped, finding him standing in front of the entrance to the building. Hundreds corpses scattered the place; Orks amongst Tau, Tau amongst Orks. The makeshift barricade was left in ruin, its occupants dead. A pillbox had been fixed there, still pouring fire into the incoming Greenskins. A smoke bomb went off. To Gialia's surprise, the thrower was Ork. Under its concealment, a squad of Flash Gitz rushed the pillbox. Three were gunned down before one grabbed a grenade and chucked it. Whoever inside the pillbox had only a second to cry out before he was vaporized.

Gialia now saw the real threat. The Flash Gitz were accompanied by another mob of Bomba Boyz, intent on blowing off the entrance the hardest way imaginable, even if it cost them their own lives. A group of Tau came out to meet them in a frantic manner. As Gialia noted, only one third of them carried the armor and insignia of the Fire Caste.

"Lookz like da squig iz in da barrel! Shoot dem! Blast dem! Give dem da Daka!" said one of the Flash Gitz exuberantly.

The Flash Gitz were elite amongst the Shoota Boyz. They fired well-discipline volleys intent on killing rather than making funny noises, and a handful of defenders were gunned down. Another Flash Gitz fell with a hole on its head.

Despite overwhelming numbers, the Orks were doing remarkably well. The Flash Gitz got themselves quite a decent kill-ratio. A Tau Shas'ui caught the full punch of a cluster shot, his body atomized in an instant. Disheartened and demoralized, his comrades broke and fled, some even discarding their firearms to make themselves more fleeting, which was a disgrace for the Fire Caste.

Gialia burst from his cover. He killed one, two, and then a third, which type he didn't bother. One Flash Gitz turned and fired back, pinning him behind the wreckage of a civilian car. Things were looking grim. The odds were stacked against the Tau that the Bomba Boyz reached it before they could be wiped out. Gialia wished Hitome were here to save the day, like he always did.

Where is he?

Then Gialia heard a high, ululating, squawking noise which could mean only one thing.

Kroot.

The Tau auxiliaries had arrived to bolster the defense, a pack of fierce-looking creatures with wiry physiques and glossy pink skin. Flexing crests of spine sprouted from the backs of their beaked skulls, and they carried long rifle which looked even more primitive than the ones used by Orks. They moved as though their muscles were rapidly uncoiling strings, bounding and leaping with an eerily unnatural gait. The creature leading the charge, which Gialia was able to recognize as the Shaper, was of greater statue than the others. A bandolier with manner of grotesque trophies was looped diagonally across its chest, and Gialia saw that Ork eyes and ears were hung there on this metal hooks. Gialia had no prejudice towards taking trophies from fallen foe, but at least Hitome's loot had more practical applications

The Flash Gitz turned to engage, but it was too late. The Kroot were monsters with phenomenal strength. Within seconds, the Orks were all but slaughtered, and Gialia sighed in relief. Not a single Bomba made it to the entrance. Not a single bomb went off. Not a single Kroot died. The Kroot killed with efficiency, but lack the grace Hitome possessed.

Oblivious to Gialia's presence, the Kroot Shaper howled something in his language, and the pack pushed on. Right into the fray. Gialia felt better now that Hitome wouldn't be alone in melee with a hundred Orks.

Gialia continued his hunt for the Ork marksman amidst the ruin and the dead. To Hitome's credit, all the Orks taking cover behind the barricades were either dead or evicted. Some were still twitching idly, but Gialia knew it was because the Striking Scorpion had hit them in the nervous system.

Gialia hoped he would not run into trouble alone. No such luck. As he slipped through the wreckage of a civilian car, he found himself right under the nose, literally under the nose of an Ork. And not just any ordinary Ork, this was a Nob, bigger, stronger, meaner, and, if anything, much uglier.

It was the first time Gialia had come up close and personal with an Ork. The thing was nearly three meters tall and almost as wide. Impossible large muscles corded its shoulders and arms and stinking furs swaddled its bulk. Its head was huge, twice the size of a human's, thrust forward and seated on the vast lower jaw. Blackened teeth stuck like chisel blades out of the rotten gums. Gialia couldn't see the eyes. He could smell the reeking breath, the corrosive saliva that spattered and dripped from the half-open mouth. The Nob wore a battery pack on its back, which Gialia couldn't quite understand. It wasn't holding any power weapon, at least not any that was visible, just an oversized axe (even for regular Orks) and a crude bolt-pistol.

The Nob was not alone. A mob of Slugga Boyz accompanied him. They kept a healthy distant from their boss.

A moment of silent between the two, both being too dumbfounded to even utter a word, or move a finger. Then, Gialia hurled himself back, opening fire and screaming as he did. He made too hits, and he prayed that would be enough. That was not the case, though. The Nob finally gathered its wit and snapped into action. It swung its axe, and although Gialia was able to block it with his rifle, the sheer force of the blow knocked him down hard. And before the Shas'ui knew it, a misshapen boot began applying pressure on his chest.

"Ya ain't good enuff for eh fight," said the Orks. "And if ya ain't good enuff for eh fight, den what'z good are ya?" Gialia grimaced. That wasn't the first, and probably not the last time he would hear such derision.

Even as Gialia struggled to breath under pressure, the Nob's attention was drawn somewhere else, giving him more space for respiration. Regaining his consciousness, Gialia saw a swarm of Gretchin fleeing aimlessly with as much speed as their stunted little legs could muster, which in all fairness was pretty fast.

"Get back to da fight, little onez," growled the Nob angrily. "Where'z da Runt'erd? I'm gonna 'ave 'iz 'ead for dis."

"Then here you go," said a cold, grim voice. The Nob was knocked off his feet by something thrown at him. Gialia was quick to realize it was a decapitated Ork head, presumably from the Runtherd. The perfect, yet brutal cut could only mean one thing.

Gialia's heart pounded in excitement at the manifestation of the Eldar. Never had it been a more welcoming sight. Hitome was still as deeply saturated in blood as the last Gialia saw him.

Wasting no time, the Eldar sprang into action. Rather than taking on the Nob, he fell upon the Boyz first, cutting them down with astounding subtlety and fleetness. Gialia doubted the Orks even realized what hit them, their shots fired wildly. The Striking Scorpion still had the Rockit Launcher on his back, although he appeared to have used up all its ammo, and it never ceased to amaze Gialia the Eldar could run with that, let alone dash and fight.

"Let him go," said Hitome, addressing the Nob. "I am your opponent now. If you want a fight, then I shall give you one hell of a fight."

"Let'z see what ya can do," said the Nob. "Snikky snikky little Eldar. Ya think ya can snik up on me like dat? Well I'm teeling ya, no one snikz up on me. Ya slippy race iz no good in my book."

"Enough talking," Hitome snarled. "And get to killing."

"Now ya spikking my language," the Nob chuckled.

Gialia reached for his rifle even as the two combatants hurled themselves at each other in blinding speed. To be left out from a fight was a both dishonorable and incongruous thing for anyone of the Fire Caste, but there was plainly nothing he could do at this point. This duel was too close, and Gialia couldn't afford to hit his own friend.

The Nob lunged, and Hitome evaded left. It lunged again, sweeping its axe around. Hitome barely avoided the second blow. The third, a vicious upward slash, came closest of all. Hitome had no choice but to block.

For such a large being, the Nob was incredibly nimble, matching Hitome's every move, parrying and hacking all at the right moment. Then, Gialia noticed the augmented joints at the arms, the legs, even the neck, all of which almost invisible due to massive muscles. These provided as much strength as Gue'la Space Marine Terminator armor provided agility, but no doubt allowed it to be more flexible than usual. So that explained why the battery pack was there in the first place. Like most other Orks, the Nob completely forgot about the application of the pistol, or perhaps ignored it completely, being completely absorbed in close combat.

Gialia was seeking for an opening. Couldn't take a shot. Still too risky, even more a skilled marksman. If only…

WHOOOSH!

The Shas'ui was filled with shock when Hitome abruptly threw the chainsword right at his direction. It missed him by an inch, but hit the Ork who was about to whack him in the middle of its forehead. Gialia's face reddened as the Eldar gave him an uneasy glare that could be translated as: "What you back."

Deprived from his main weapon, the Eldar had no choice but to dodge all the incoming blows, which were increasing rapidly by the second. The Ork lunged, again and again. One axe slash grazed his helmet, and another almost peeled off his shoulder-guard. Both times, the blunt force was diverted, so the armor took little or no damage whatsoever. Hitome was fine so far, jumping back or sideway, but he was being forced back step by step, and had almost ran out of space to back up. There was a half-torn wall behind him. His opponent was boxing him in. The ground was uneven. There was no space in which to turn. The Ork's triumphant was written all over its face.

Gialia knew he had to take actions immediately.

Then, the Nob's momentum was suddenly gone. It staggered back, swaying left and right uncontrollably like a drunkard in his worse moonshine night, holding its head with both hands. It didn't seem at all aggressive anymore, and when Hitome pinned it down, it fell. Gialia realized Hitome had just made use of mandiblaster, a device strapped on the Striking Scorpion's helmet to neutralize foe. Even though it did no significant damage, the shock gave the warrior enough time to finish off the oozy opponent.

What happened next was of extreme violence that made Gialia regret ever looking. All he could describe, with the logic of Tau, and the benefits of euphemism, was that Hitome plunged both hand into the Nob's mouth and pulled out a good chunk of blood, along with _something else_ which sent a feeling of convulsion to Gialia. Gialia wished the Ork was dead, but it wasn't. However, such resilience was working against it this time, for the death was anything but swift and painless. Hitome, using his gauntleted hand, delivered punch after punch into its forehead unit the skull exploded. Gialia almost threw up when the Eldar squished the Ork's brain, which was conceivably small, in his hand.

Not the kind of killing normally approved by worshipers of Khaela Mensha Khaine, but it did the job. Gialia almost felt bad about the Orks. If he hadn't been so careless and Hitome hadn't lost his weapons trying to protect him, things ought to have been much easier, and much prettier, too.

A blood soaked Hitome approached Gialia. "If this is the theatre of war, my friend," he said as he recovered his weapon from the dead Ork, "then you are playing the role of the damsel in distress." An invisible smirk ran across his face.

Gialia flushed at the comment. "Well, at least this damsel in distress knows how to fight back."

"Not good enough, I can see that," Hitome sniggered. "Anyway, we have bigger problem to worry about. The horde have taken Tris'el Street. Looks like one hell of a fight there. Your comrades held their position valiantly, but they ultimately failed, their body parts…," Hitome halted for a moment, as if realizing how hurtful his as-a-matter-of-fact comments were earlier. After a few pauses, he went on, "The Kroot arrived to help and are now locked in combat with them pretty bad at the intersection between Wa'lo and Tris'el Street. They are savage, the Kroot that is, but the Orks seem relentless. Your aid would be very much better needed there."

"Looks grim indeed," agreed Gialia. The Ork sniper would have to wait. It was a nuisance as much as an annoyance, especially to someone with the fixed mindset that Orks were barbaric creatures only capable of charging headlong and using sheer numbers, but Gialia was resolute not to relive the heart-shaking feeling of witnessing the Tau stronghold almost going down to Ork Bomba Boyz. No matter how many warriors must die this day, the defense could not afford to fall. "Let's move out then. Before there is nothing left."

The two of them dashed through the scene of carnage. Hitome didn't seem too annoyed having to wait once in every thirty seconds for Gialia to catch up. They encountered few isolated Orks which were quickly dealt with. On the way, Hitome came across a Tankbursta. After some examinations, he discarded his Rockit Launcher and switched for this one. Apparently, the more common variant of the weapon didn't share ammo with the customized ones used by Oddboyz and Kommandoz, or maybe the incompatibility was due to the fact they were made by two different Mekz.

The Kroot had cut a swath through the Orks' ranks with thorough destructions, but not without a couple of losses on their own. Both dead Kroot were stripped of their skin, flesh and most organs, leaving only barebones. The Orks didn't do this. Even after so many years serving along these mercenaries, Gialia failed to understand why they would spare time having snacks in the think of the fighting. Maybe it was part of their tradition that it would bring them strength and courage.

"Gialia," said Hitome all of a sudden. "If I die today, can you do me a favor?"

"Don't say that," Gialia snapped.

"Hope for the best, but be ready for the worst," the Eldar said with a melodious tone, as if rehearsing for a song or a play. It became apparent to Gialia that his voice had always been the same, not that he wanted to. "Should I fall, retrieve my soul stone and burn my body the quickest moment possible."

"Why?" asked Gialia, irritated.

"I would rather not become Kroot's lunch," Hitome replied plainly. "It shocks me that you could ally with such cannibalistic barbarians."

Gialia scoffed. Cannibalistic barbarians they might be, the Kroot had always been more willing to embrace the Greater Good than the Eldar ever were. "So that is what you're worrying about? What's going to happen to you after you die? You are not going to die this day, I assure you that. So get down to earth and concern what is more imminent."

"It's a matter of honor," said Hitome, "as well as tradition. You are a Tau so you wouldn't understand how us Eldar feel about life and death. I ask you again, will you help me?"

"I do," Gialia promised half-heartedly.

"Thank you," said Hitome, looking more assuaged. "Now let's get on with it."

Gialia and Hitome came to Wa'lo Street and found the scene of violence laid before them. Hundreds of Orks were charging forwards from the opposite direction with savage purpose, crying and howling as they came. Inevitably, dozens were brought down by incoming fire from the defenders who were desperately keeping the green tide at bay. Awi'alo Union Trade Building offered few windows from this wing and no one was keen on breaking the walls for extra bolt-holes, so many Tau warriors had to disembark onto the street below, taking cover behind terrain curves caused by artillary shells and burned out vehicles, a trio of Hammerheads and two Battlewagons. Unfortunately for Gialia, the defenders were on the other side of Awi'alo Street, and thus, two thirds the battle zone away from him.

The Kroot were there, too. The defense would have been flanked more than once hadn't been for them. These auxiliary troopers fought the Orks in brutal hand-to-hand combat with great efficacy as before. As Gialia watched, the Shaper took out an Ork Nob standing twice the height of him, splitting its skull with his twin blade. These one's brain was even smaller than the last.

"Orks' engines straight ahead. Get out of the way!" Hitome shouted in warning. No sooner had he done so than the first of the walkers emerged from the alleyway. Gialia counted at least six of them, all Killa Kan, _stompy_ and _killy_ as expected. The Kroot scattered at the sight of these behemoths, but not all were successful. One was hit by the full blow of a misshapen mechanical hand which was crablike, disintegrating like reserve of fruit hit by a shotgun blast, splattering tissue, flash and organs all over the others who fled in dismay.

The Killa Kan continued their onslaught. A squad of Fire Warriors were flushed from the bomb crater they were using as cover. Burna-to-bitz was there, so the whole thing was painfully quick. All Tau fighters were reduced to ashes within seconds.

"We've got to stop those things," said Gialia urgently. " These things are dangerous."

"Right." Hitome nodded. "But I will need to get close enough in order for an accurate shot. I only have four rounds left, and there are so many of these iron abominations."

"Let's go," Gialia pressed.

"Wait," cried Hitome. "The footsteps of evil draw closer. The sound of seared metal. Outflankers. Watch out!"

Gialia didn't see any obvious danger, but he trusted Hitome's instinct more than he trusted himself, and so prepared to react correspondingly. And not a second too soon, a mob of Greenskins charged from the wreckage of a Battlewagon. Apparently, they made holes on both sides of the hull to push through unnoticed. Amongst them were a handful of the dreaded 'ardboyz, Orks carrying riot shields, each as tough as tank armor (Orkish tank armor).

WAAARGH!

Gialia was relieved seeing he and Hitome weren't going to get overrun, but the group of Fire Warriors behind a dead Hammerhead wouldn't be so lucky. They fired back defiantly, and down went a few Orks. The Greenskins were charging in a disorganized manner, so the shields were pretty much useless but for its user. One lucky shot went through the visor slit of the riot shield and hit the Ork carrying it squarely in the nose.

The Orks were all over them, hacking away with knives and axes. Needless to say, these Tau stood no chance.

"We've got to save them," said Gialia.

"If there is anyone left to save," responded Hitome grimly.

The Striking Scorpion rammed into the nearest Ork, knocking it back along with brutal strength. The abomination reeled back, blocking the advance of its companions. Gialia spat a few well-aimed shots to support, taking out one 'ardboy through the eye slit and causing even further more confusion. One of his shots scored two kills.

Hitome kicked an 'ardboy in the face, sending a few teeth flying, and wrenched the shield off another; the force was of such intensity that its hand came out. The Orks reeled back from the losses. The Striking Scorpion sliced through no less than five torsos with a single slash because they were lined up almost perfectly. Before these bodies could topple, he jumped on top of them and descended upon the rest behind, much to their unspoken dismay.

Gialia was relieved to see one Fire Warrior still alive. He looked scruffy and his helmet was split by an axe. He looked rather young. Bewilderment was all over his face, but he seemed fine, or at least able. Hitome helped him get up.

"There are two things warriors of Tau are good at," commented Hitome coolly. "Shooting and getting into deep ends. It's a horrible shame they can't shoot out of deep ends."

"Get up, Shas'la," Gialia shouted onerously. "This is not the proper stand off the Fire Caste are expecting. Get up and fight."

The young warrior did what he said and quickly got to his feet. He wore red and purple armor compared to Gialia's light yellow and azure.

"Give me a situation report," Gialia demanded.

"Shas'la Ty'loc of the Red Moon battlegroup, second Kauai," the Tau warrior said. "They have us pinned down, and are constantly rushing our position. You have my thanks, sir."

"Shas'ui Gialia of the Morning Star Coalition," said Gialia, opening fire on the Orks clambering amongst the ruin, knocking a couple off their feet. "Looks like you have yourselves one hell of a dire strait here. And don't thank me," he gestured the Eldar, "I did little in preserving your life. He's your savior."

The Killa Kans were upon them. At least ten massive hideous contraptions with arms the size of cranes and thick black smoke spewing from the chimney up top. These abominations looked as though they had been through hell and back, bearing innumerable scars, burn marks as well as blood stains of their unfortunate victims. Gialia was surprised to note the blood was a odd mixture of blue and red color, meaning that unfortunate victims weren't confined to Tau.

"There are too many of them," cried Ty'loc, dismayed.

"Then let's even up the scale," Gialia assured him.

The Eldar shouldered the Tankbursta and took the shot. The intensity of it hurled him back. The Rockit impacted a Killa Kan head on, blowing it to bits. The others were too close and got within the blast radius. One by one, their fuel tanks ignited. The violence was gloriously amplified as walkers after walkers went off in the same manner. The blazing flame embraced the surrounding Orks like a fanatic lover. Dozens were toasted, literally toasted.

Gialia had to admit. Asking Hitome to go with him was the wisest decision ever. The Orks' offensive had been devastated by a single shot, but some Orks just didn't know when to stop. The surviving Killa Kan, however, had clearly had enough. They fled, leaving Orks trampled in their wake. Gialia knew these murderous machines were crewed by Gretchin, so they were cowards at heart. Not the first time they were seen running like hell from the battle.

"This is way more fun than the Phoenix Hunt," said Hitome.

"Phoenix Hunt?" echoed Gialia.

"It's an event in which warriors would descend on a world infested with Orks and start tracking them down like games," Hitome explained. "A competition actually, with reasonable prizes."

"Did you come in first place?" asked Gialia.

Hitome shook his head. "No. I was 12th place."

"Out of how many?"

"Three hundred Aspect Warriors and fifty Space Marines to make it even more interesting. Scouts were excluded from the event. The only thing they can take part in is the probation hunt."

"Then 12th place is a laudable position," said Gialia.

Hitome chuckled. "Not really. Because there's hardly any challenge it that. The Orks have only sticks and stones as weapons, and the possibility of getting injured is accumulated at a mere 17 percent. THIS is real war. THIS is real fun?"

Most Orks were running by now. Some too aggressive or too stupid, stayed in the fight. Dozens went down to the Tau's hail of fire, and more were gutted, skewered by Kroot.

"Let's put an end to this, shall we?" said Hitome.

"Hope we'll finish this before lunch," Gialia responded jokingly. "I'm hungry."

"The odds are in our favour now. Time to press the attack."

The two of them charged forward, but once again, Gialia fell behind and couldn't catch up. This time, Hitome didn't bother to wait anymore. Gialia cursed his physique for possessing so limited capacity.

Gialia was moving through the rubble of what used to be a public toilet when the ground beneath his feet collapsed. Apparently, this spot must have been hit by an artillery shell, for the tunneling system was exposed from here. Gialia hit the ground hard, probably cracking a few bones upon impact. He blacked out for a second. Reaching for his fallen weapon, Gialia hauled himself up and wiped the dust off his visor.

He saw Orks.

About twenty of them were looking for a way out through the sewer. Fatigue was on them, and Gialia doubted they would notice him, unless he did something extremely bold or extremely stupid.

Gialia tried to back off, carefully placing his step, not wanting to cause an alarm. There were way too many for him to deal with. Hitome might not have much of a problem, though.

Gialia would have made it had he not run into the Ork sniper.

The two stared at each other wordlessly. In retrospect, Gialia imagined, the Greenskin was as surprised to see him as he was to see it, otherwise it would no doubt have finished the matter before his numbed and battered mind properly registered its presence. The Ork was relatively small compared to others of its kind, still larger than even the largest Tau, its size equivalent to the Gue'la jungle fighters Gialia encountered on De'sus during the disastrous war for Damocle Gulf. In its hands held a perplexing type of weapon, not something Gialia was familiar with. It had a barrel too long, and not enough space to put bullet, so Gialia assumed it was single-shot, quite rare seeing most Orks cared not for actually hitting something, but rather to shoot a lot in general directions.

After a moment of bafflement, the two quickly maneuvered. They fired at the same time, and a miracle occurred. Belching plasma met solid round in mid air, and the solid round turned to molten slag. Before Gialia could pull out another shot, the Ork hurled itself at him, swinging its carbine aiming for his skull. Gialia blocked the blow with his own weapon. Unfortunately, the sheer force knocked it from his hands. A second swipe hit Gialia in the chest, and the Fire Warrior felt his lung exploding under pressure.

Gialia drew his sword and impaled the Ork's chest. The abomination reared with blood gushing from its injury, but by the looks of it, whatever damage done was minor at best.

Gialia panted hard. The fight would have to be decided in a melee, which was everything the Tau doctrine reminded its fighters to stay away as far as possible. There were many reasons why a Tau should think twice before involving in close combat against any opponent. First, their bodies were too frail to even the slightest attack, as well as exhibiting a lacking in both strength and agility. Worse still, their feet weren't designed to jump, let alone to kick anybody with just two toes. Last but not least, there was almost no need to engage so up close and personal when they had Kroot auxiliaries sticking their neck out for them. All Fire Warriors had to be specialized, and by learning close combat, their skills with the guns might diminish.

But that was not the case here. There were no Kroot around. Hitome wasn't here to save the day either. This fight was his, and only him can participate. Gialia saw no easy way out, no way to evade, no way to withdraw. The odds were clearly not in his favor.

With an ear-rattling roar of WAARGH!, the Ork launched itself forward, arms outstretched. Again, Gialia took the blade into its torso, but he did not have to vigor, or perhaps the sword was not sharp enough, to slit it across and open up the wound. The Ork knocked him sideway quite effortlessly. Gialia clambered to his feet. The sword was no longer in his hand. His vision went wild. He saw three Orks. He jerked back, grabbed a piece of rubble and threw it at the one in the middle. What kind of illusion he was having he wasn't sure, but the Ork on the left gave him a fist which sent him sprawling on the broken tile of the sewer.

The Ork howled in triumphant. Gialia knew his end would be near, when he came across the vacuum. If only he could flush the Ork into one of those. Then, he remembered how the instruction said about using toilet soaps to waver the stench of body waste. They smelled good, but that smell carried a liability. These soaps were made from poisonous chemicals powerful enough to take out a Tau, so users should never sniff or eat them.

Chuckling darkly at the thought, Gialia extended his hand at the vacuum. There it was, a piece of fine soap. Let's hope it's poisonous enough. Gialia grasped it and hid it in his palm, pretending a fist. Gathering every last bits of his strength, he struck back with a punch on the Ork's face. It didn't quite pull out, and he was sure it hurt attacker more than it hurt the victim. A light headbutt sent him back crawling. The Ork bellowed its victory, and that was exactly what Gialia had been hoping for. He threw the soap into the filthy mouth about the size of the vacuum itself.

The Ork was caught off guarded. It stared at Gialia in disbelief. A second later, foam appeared at the edge of its lips. The poison was spreading fast. The Ork convulsed, its balance gone, no different from the one that took a mandiblaster. Its eyes turned to bloodshot and blood trickled from its eyes, ears and nose. Gialia wasted no time scrambling for his rifle. By the time he picked it up, the Ork was already down, twitching. He delivered the killing blow with a shot through the eye.

The top of his to kill list. Terminated.

Gialia climbed up to the surface. By the time he reached it, the battle was over. Without their vehicle supports, the Orks' assault was effectively broken. Those that persisted were dealt with mercilessness. Now, it was peace. After the storm came calm.

Hitome stood triumphant atop dozens of slain Greenskins, searching for serviceable loot, when the Kroot Shaper approached lent him a hand to shake, a manner apparently learned from the Tau, and thought it was also aplicable with Eldar.

"You fought well," he said in a squeaky voice which some almost like an un-oiled engine. "Had not been for you, we would not see another day. I believe this is how you express gratitude."

To Gialia's utter shock, the Eldar slapped it away as though he was offered rotten fruit. "I will not shake hand with animals like you," he flatly refused. All the good impression Gialia had had of Hitome was gone. In front of him now stood an arrogant man who saw any creature with garments covering less than eighty percent its body an uncivilized beast. Especially one with such long beak that couldn't be ignored.

Some of the Kroot must have overheard the conversation, for they were brimming with anger. One of them couldn't take it any more. Howling hysterically, he attempted to assault the Eldar with his knife. Hitome was faster. The Eldar grabbed the Kroot in the throat and threw him down disdainfully. Another came, but received a kick to the jaw. A third was rammed by Hitome's shoulder in midair as he tried to leap. Hitome was inexplicably aggressive, but at least he refrained himself from using weapons up to this point, otherwise the Kroot would not have escaped casualties.

Too soon to say that calm had finally, and Gialia was quick to realize how wrong he had been. After the storm came another storm. Maybe he should have known better, about trusting an alien and inviting it as a friend in the first place.

"Stop this," he cried. "Stop this meaningless fighting. This does not benefit the Greater Good."

They did not stop. Not Hitome, not the Kroot.


End file.
